


about his mother

by RightHandofFenHarel



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Brendol Hux's A+ Parenting, F/F, Hux has mothers who love him, Mostly Canon Compliant, Phasma Novel Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-28 22:40:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16731993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RightHandofFenHarel/pseuds/RightHandofFenHarel
Summary: Maratelle is the daughter of Arkanian nobles and Bevin the daughter of one of their servants.  They are best friends as children and as they age, their friendship blooms into something more.  When Maratelle is married off to an upstart Imperial, they both see this as an opportunity to have a child.  After being separated from their son during the bombardment of Arkanis, Maratelle and Bevin swear to take him back and bring vengeance upon the betrayer Brendol Hux.  Very few are aware that little Armitage gets his determination and cunning from his mothers.





	about his mother

**Author's Note:**

  * For [callmelyss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/callmelyss/gifts).



> I loved your prompt and was really intrigued by the idea of Armitage having two mothers who actually love and support him. I sincerely hope you enjoy!

* * *

_If you reach him, tell him Leia has an urgent message for him…_

_...about his mother._

* * *

 

Clouds blanket the sky.  It would seem unnatural the way that they blot out the sun so suddenly, if it weren’t for the fact that they did it yesterday and the day before and will do it tomorrow and the day after so as long as Arkanis exists.  The gentle tap of raindrops on the window does nothing to calm the urgent movement of medical personnel inside an old estate.

In a system far from here, it is a beautiful day with gently lapping ocean waves on bright sandy beaches. The water is the same deep blue as the sky and just as clear.

But Scarif burns.

Scarif burns and Commandant Hux is called from his wife’s estate back to the Academy for briefing, although the reason for his absence hardly matters. Neither wife nor mistress ever expected he would care to be present for the birth of his own son.

The room is filled with a cacophonous din.   The hum and beep of medical equipment mixes with stifled cries of pain and calming platitudes of medical droids.   _Breathe, almost there._  Meaningless words in the face of the monumental task of bringing life into the world.

Scarif burns but Maratelle only sees the fire in Bevin’s eyes as she labours to deliver a healthy child.  She clasps her lover’s hand and wills every ounce of her own strength to pour into her body. If there was ever a time for a latent connection to the fabled Force to materialize, she thinks, now would be it.  

Bevin inhales and gathers herself for one last push.  The women lock eyes and Maratelle makes a solemn vow. No harm shall ever befall Bevin or their son while she draws breath.  He will never be Brendol’s. He will be theirs and he will be loved.

Scarif burns and Armitage draws his first breath.

* * *

Maratelle can barely keep from falling down the stairs to the kitchen, her eyes bloodshot and Armitage precariously balanced on one hip.  When she takes the child into her arms, Bevin sees the beginnings of a bruise at his neck and tear stains on his cheeks. Maratelle must return to face Brendol’s wrath but she will not let Armitage take the full brunt of his attacks.  As Bevin hears her heavy footfalls fade away up the stairs, she makes a solemn vow. Brendol will pay for his transgressions and the price will be his life.

The other servants gossip.  It is not the first time that Maratelle hides Armitage away with the kitchen woman nor will it be the last. It will happen many times before she can no longer protect him, but the vow stays the same, each time made with more fervor than the last.  When the time is right, he will die and he will know at whose hand he falls.

* * *

Armitage is four years old when Maratelle begins his blaster training.  She helps him aim her custom blaster at a target across the lawn. He pulls the trigger but still misses rather dismally.  He throws it to the ground in disgust and kicks it away. She retrieves it and forces the session to continue. She knows that Brendol will never show enough of an interest in him to ensure that he is properly prepared for the life ahead.  His only hope is with her help. Armitage begins to consistently succeed after a few hours of practice, but she knows that tomorrow, they’ll start only a few steps from the beginning again. She must also teach him patience.

Armitage is five years old when Bevin slips him her monomolecular blade.  Just in case. One never knows what could happen. Brendol can be quite volatile and news from the Coruscant hasn’t been heartening of late.  She makes a mental note to start teaching him about poisons when he’s tall enough to gather ingredients and use a proper heating source unattended. 

* * *

On a primitive moon a forest celebrates, an emperor falls, and a child with awesome and terrible power is conceived who will grow up to fill the vacuum left by the tyrant’s demise.  

Once again, Bevin huddles in the kitchen rocking Armitage to sleep, his long limbs now too skinny and too pale, and soothes his cuts and bruises with bacta.  It is the last time she will wrap her child in the protective shroud of obscurity for soon the bombs will fall.

* * *

A rare sunny morning wakens Maratelle. The filtered sunlight glints off of Bevin’s fiery hair.  Brendol is away again, spending all his time with his cherished cadets. So cherished that he has no time for his son.  Armitage is safe upstairs with a nanny droid and Maratelle knows they have just enough more time alone to indulge in one last dalliance before returning to collect him.  Her time with Bevin is never enough these days and watching her calm and sleeping form only stokes the fire burning within her higher. Maratelle nuzzles back down into Bevin’s breasts, so soft and warm and heavy under her palms, and cannot hold back from kissing them.  She feels almost dehydrated with her need for her. Bevin stirs, a small smile breaking across her lips, as Maratelle kisses down her body. Long pale fingers entwine with the dark silken strands of Maratelle’s hair as Bevin urges her on. She tastes sweet and earthen on Maratelle’s tongue as she finally quenches her thirst.

These last precious hours are the calm before the storm or perhaps the lightning sparking flames in a forest for they are awakened later in the day by the high pitched wail of sirens.  The New Republic is here to bring it’s joyous celebration to Arkanis. They will be liberated from the falling Empire with a hail of fire.

The estate’s emergency systems kick into overdrive and droids attempt to shuffle them into a shelter but they must retrieve Armitage first.  Outside the windows, the countryside is alight with the flash of turbolasers from the orbital assault. Maratelle kicks the legs out from under a droid restricting her path and runs to the nearest turbolift, pressing the button frantically to get the doors to slide open .  Bevin is close on her heels and the doors slide shut behind them as the hurtle towards the floor where Armitage’s room is located. When they step out of the lift, the building shakes and they stumble, but push forward as parts of the walls begin to crumble. It is all for naught.  The child’s room is empty. Armitage is nowhere to be found. Then Maratelle feels the warm embrace of nothingness.

When she comes too, it is in a basement shelter in an emergency medical facility.  Bevin is bent over across the bed sleeping, likely too exhausted to sit up any longer.  At first she remembers nothing and is just happy to have her love near her, then it all floods back at once making the injury to the back of her skull pound.  She clenches her fist in pain and Bevin wakes. Her face is red from hours of crying but she presses warm kisses onto Maratelle’s cheeks and forehead and holds her as tight as she can without impeding the medical equipment.

“Where’s Armitage?” Maratelle manages to ask through the display of affection.

The blood draining from Bevin’s face is incongruous with the words she speaks.

“He’s alive.”

Maratelle tries to sit up but only falls back against the pillow when her strength wains.

“Then, what…”

“Brendol took him.” 

* * *

Maratelle idly flips through the news of the day on her datapad.  Arkanis has never been the same to her even after the reconstruction and economic resurgence, but she and Bevin remain year after year, searching, wanting, waiting for any sign that the time is right to strike back against the betrayer and reclaim their son.  What makes her cling so fervently to the belief that the two men are even still alive, she does not know, but cling to it she does. Maratelle suddenly stops and swipes her finger back across the screen and looks closer at the image.  The corresponding article is by a reporter sympathetic to the cause of the Centrists and there is no question that the man in the foreground is Brendol Hux. He is surrounded by black clad sycophants as always. Then she sees him; a tall gaunt figure with hair the color of a fiery sunset stands looking thoroughly unimpressed towards the back of the group.  Maratelle and Bevin will need to wait no further.

It is pathetically easy to infiltrate Brendol’s fledgling Order even for a former wife and mistress.  They both have skills needed by the cause and slip aboard unnoticed as just another weapons specialist and mess coordinator.  Getting close to Armitage is another matter as Brendol seems to hold him on a tight leash. Only when Brendol leaves for recruitment and is then waylaid by a, fortunate for their purposes, crash landing on a desolate planet can they safely contact Armitage.  Bevin is the first to make the attempt. He barely notices her when she arrives with tea, instead of his customary droid but looks up when she greets him by his first name. He must admit she is alarmingly familiar to him, but it is only when Bevin arrives with Maratelle the following day that he allows himself to entertain the idea that the mothers he had loved so dearly, truly had not forsaken him.  

“Then you are here to help me kill him?” he asks unprompted, voice flat and cold.

The two women wrap their arms around him and the plot begins in earnest.

In the end, the days leading up to Brendol’s retrieval from Parnassos produce a scheme too convoluted to be successful, but Maratelle sees an opportunity in the tall blonde warrior woman that returns with Brendol as rumors fly.  She will be the key.

* * *

“Oh father, how terrible you look.”

Brendol is bloated and spoiled floating in the bacta tank.  Medics and med droids are baffled alike that he is dying and cannot be saved.  He looks into the face of his son with his petulant snear, then he sees the sparkling brown eyes of a woman he once called wife come into focus as well.  Lastly, the woman who bore Armitage steps into view. She mouths a curse at him. His last thought is the dawning realization of what has transpired. Then he disintegrates to nothing.

Armitage gives a eulogy so stirring that no one notices the two cloaked figures standing to the left of the dais, hands clasped tightly, listening with baited breath.  And if these two figures notice the dark underpinnings of tyranny weave through the speech, they do not care. What matters is that their son is once again safe. They will ensure his path remains smooth and true.

* * *

The Supreme Leader is dead, but their son does not ascend to the throne.  

When Bevin takes General Hux into her arms, she sees the beginnings of a bruise at his neck but no tear stains on his cheeks.  The hug he gives in return is rather formal and perfunctory, but she is relieved nonetheless that he indulges in her affection at all.  Maratelle rises from her seat at the desk where she is cleaning and cataloging their latest weapons cache and joins them, adding a comforting hand to his shoulder.  Hux levels a look at them both and they all understand.  The galaxy will burn and he will rise from the ashes. A mother’s love knows no bounds.


End file.
